


Shards

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Guilt, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 15:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Pepper Potts died during the events surrounding extremis.Tony grieves and secludes himself.Steve Rogers however, freshly thawed, will not be shaken off that easily. Tony on the other hand has to make a choice between emotions and rationality.





	Shards

**Author's Note:**

> This was quote difficult to write. Never wrote for Marvel before,so getting a grasp of the characters is difficult.
> 
> I'd also like to thank the people who cheer read for me, you're awesome and you rock.
> 
> This was for the Bingo for the prompt "What if I can't?"

Fire burned everywhere. Pepper fell. He was not fast enough, there was no deus ex machina, no heroic catch. Tony wasn’t even close, he stood far away behind a window in Stark Tower. He drank, the glass shattered and the shard dropped into the ocean below. All of his failings reflected on the ground with his regrets. 

He closed his eyes, felt her soft hair slip through his calloused fingers. He heard her exasperated sigh as he talked about the complications he had met when improving the latest armor. And he saw her smile. It was carved into her face even as her eyes turned dead and the skin melted off like wax from a candle.   


  
  
He woke in silence. His eyes shot open and he felt the beads of sweat on his temple. They made their path down as he counted his breath, inhaled and exhaled. His heart fluttered, no longer artificially supported, unnatural without the familiar weight of the arc reactor. He dragged his arm over his forehead and pushed himself up. The clock read half past three in the morning and he noted a new record.   
  
“Lights on forty percent,” he said, voice scratchy and dry.   
  
Dim lights illuminated the room a moment later and he slid out of his bed and into the bathroom. He turned the faucet on and splashed his face with the cool water. After towelling off he looked up into the mirror.   
He saw greasy dark hair, out of shape for the lack of a haircut, dark circles under his eyes and an unkempt goatee. There was no Pepper to admonish him, to support him. His attention shifted to the blue of the clear skies, a warm hand on his shoulder, muttered condolences.   
He snapped back into focus, the here and now. He had a duty, he couldn’t dwell in his mind forever, even if his brain needed the reminder every so often.

He grabbed the shirt he left on the floor the day prior and pulled it over the thin tank top he wore to sleep. He ran a hand over his chest, where a scar reminded him of the procedure that followed after Pepper’s death. He shuffled back into the bedroom where he picked up the discarded pants and put them on as well. A pair of socks and slippers were added made for the elevator.   
  
  
The workshop was where the thoughts couldn’t follow. There he was intellect and imagination, he was Iron Man.   
  
  
A few hours later he was elbow deep in the inner workings of a spin conductor. The signal was still unstable, the feedback poor. The software was too advanced for the hardware but he was bent on making it work. So far it hadn’t proven successful. 

“Sir, the CEO of Stark Industries is calling. Do you wish to take the call?”  
  
  
“Was that a reference to middle school love letters, JARVIS? Is there a maybe I can tick? What’s his name again? John Smith? It was something fancy anyway. I don’t care. Tell him he has a minute and put him through, better get this over with,” Tony said.   
  
The interim CEO of Stark Industries had been appointed only a day after Pepper Potts’ death was announced. At that time Tony had been too struck with grief to care, now his only weapon was to make that man’s life as difficult as he could without ruining the company. Which was very little in the grand scheme of things. Life went on without Pepper Potts so it could as well with Tony Stark.   
  
“Voice only, JARVIS,” he ordered.

An _ of course, sir _ followed and Tony wondered whether JARVIS had softened or his A.I was running a virus. He’d been oddly subservient beyond the parameters given to him.   
Maybe he was giving Tony space.   
  
  
“Mr. Stark,” a voice as dull as its owner droned through the speakers.   
  
The man was a solid choice for a CEO. Efficient, driven and a complete bore. He had tons of recommendations and seemed to do his job. That was what Stark Industries needed in the long run, he couldn’t allow all of Pepper’s efforts to go to waste. That didn’t mean he had to like the man or make his life any easier.   
  
“Connected to the one and only, time is running fifty-five, fifty-four,” Tony said.   
  
  
John Smith didn’t falter, instead, he stated his business, all professional. A real pro. Tony picked up a screwdriver and disassembled the spine part of the conductor for the fifth time. _ We could always separate the kernel into several _ , Tony thought, while John Smith’s voice carried through the speakers.   
  
  
“-this error in calculation has led to underwhelming productivity of S-BS3, the necessary details I forwarded through mail. I was told not to expect anything but the board issued a meeting on the 7th.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said. “Saw those, fixed it. Unless something blows up in that case contact me ASAP, since I have not managed to make it do just that yet. I’ll send it in my next mail. Your time’s up for the day. Have a nice one. End call JARVIS.” 

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS replied dutifully. “Anything else you require? I highly recommend a meal, since your last caloric intake dates back fourteen hours.”   
  
Tony stared at the clock that read two pm then noticed the emptiness in his stomach. With no real appetite he had JARVIS order a pizza, his usual, and walked over to the blueprints he hadn’t integrated into his systems yet. Not that he had any fear of a hacker stealing them but they were not well-founded yet, barely drabbles, vague ideas sent to him to look over. Some were his own but usually he took those to JARVIS without the hassle of the physical. 

  
His right hand went over a particular design for Avengers Tower and he smeared his thumb over some notes an architect had scribbled there, then balled his fist and slammed it down, wiping papers and spare parts alike off the desk. He roared and slammed his flat hand down once more, flinging what had survived the first onslaught onto the ground. Something cut into his palm but he barely noticed as he crumpled into the nearest chair.

_ You’re going to get yourself killed, Tony _ _   
_ _   
_ _   
_ He drew a shuddering breath, hunched, rested his arms on his thighs and gazed at the circuit board that lay broken on the jumbled surface. He distantly felt a stinging sensation in his right hand but his eyes wandered through the workshop. What was he even trying to accomplish here?   
  
  
“Fuck it,” he whispered and buried his face in his hands.   
  
Only then did he notice the slight wetness around his upper lip and the slow flow of blood that steadily travelled the path of gravity. He couldn’t hear the dripping over the static in his ears. Heard her voice again, dull and muted, as if through a thick curtain. Like the ones his mother prefered in their home, back when it could still be called that.   
  
How could they just expect him to _ go on _ like nothing had ever happened? SHIELD breathed down his neck, people were out for blood claiming property damage and Pepper Potts was dead. She was dead and there had been nothing left to bury, nothing left to mourn when that fire swallowed her up.   
  
A single choked sob forced itself past his lips and he clamped his uninjured hand over his mouth as tears threatened to spill over. He had cried enough already and as his father used to say _ would not bring back the dead _. As a kid it hadn’t hindered him in showing his emotions but currently the truth of those words seemed undeniable.

“_ Sir? _ Your heart rate is elevated and the frequency of your breaths per minute indicates a substantial amount of distress. Shall I contact Colonel Rhodes?”   
  
“JARVIS. Shut up,” Tony hissed. He had bothered Rhodey enough, the man deserved an indefinite break from fucked-upness and playing babysitter. He knew his friend was understanding, didn’t consider it a chore at all but it was wrong to put this all on him. Nevermind the danger any further contact with Tony might bring him. 

  
He closed his eyes as he had practiced with Bruce some time ago and counted his breaths, in and out, slow and steady. He couldn’t say it made him feel calmer or that it slowed the thoughts in his mind running rampant. His grief was still all-encompassing. But somehow, it brought him back from the brink of tears, wrenched that lump in his throat back into his stomach where it rested like a stone.   
  
“The pizza has arrived," JARVIS said, taking no notice of Tony’s order for silence.   
  
“Later,” Tony answered. His waved his healthy hand and grabbed a rag DUM-E had left lying around. He pressed it down on the cut on his palm and hissed at the sting it caused.   
  
“I understand, sir.” 

  
Tony grunted and kicked the mess under the desk with vehemence. He returned to his interface and brought up a zoom in on his last suit. The one he never built before Extremis, before Killian and before-   
  
  
“Someone ordered a pizza?” a familiar voice called, “Extra cheese, mushrooms and…. tuna? I think.”   
  
Tony, who stood with his back to the door, didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. He recognized that voice anywhere. It had accompanied him most of his childhood except for sounding less tinny in the flesh, deep and rich but unwelcome.   
  
“What are you doing here, Cap?” Tony asked. He imagined Captain America standing in the doorway of workshop, chiseled and righteous. He bristled at the upcoming discussion and reacted the way he knew. An attack.   
  
“I don’t remember inviting you or did you take up a job as a delivery man? In that case, congratulations on the promotion. Now shoo,” he said. He looked over his shoulder and waved his hand in a motion of goodbye. He hadn’t seen Steve since the funeral _ Call me if you need someone _ he’d said true sincerity in his eyes but Tony never did. Steve would send him messages _ Are you alright? Hey, how’ve you been doing, We’re here for you. _ He never replied.   
  
Steve looked… better. They hadn’t seen each other much out of Avengers business but Tony had caught the lost look in his eyes back in 2012. Steve was probably trying to return some favor he thought he owed as Tony used to send him flyers of events he might take an interest in, told him what to look up until he felt that the captain had somewhat settled.   
He still didn’t get what sense there was in sending someone into battle just after he found out he wasn’t in Oz anymore. Yes, they flew to the moon and no cars were still grounded. But that was all in the past. The Steve now looked fresh, albeit wearing a frown that made him slightly less attractive, disapproval written all over.   
  
Tony felt something then, burning, black and hot and whipped around ready to throw any accusation right back. JARVIS was faster.   
  
“ _ Sir, it was me who asked the Captain to come by. I felt it was in your best interest," _ he said.   
“You forbade me from contacting Colonel Rhodes. Forgive me, sir," he added and went quiet. The A.I version of a hasty retreat if there ever was one.   
  
“Fuck you too, JARVIS," Tony bit out. He made a note to adjust the distress parameters since apparently JARVIS held the notion to stretch them. He would have been proud at that ability had it been another time. He glowered at Steve who stood as if rooted to the ground.   
  
“You can just leave the pizza on the nearest surface. I’ve got no time to play tourist guide and anyway you’re trespassing. That’s illegal by the way and no, the permission of an A.I does not count in court. If you ever wondered, now you know," Tony said.   
  
He made to turn around, signaling that their nascent conversation was over before it got the chance to sprout. One word however was all it took to stop him in his tracks. It wasn’t the word itself but the way it was said. It was a plea for recognition.   
  
“Tony," Steve said. Tony pressed his lips together.   
  
“You don’t have to do this alone," Steve continued. He carefully placed the pizza box on the nearest surface as instructed and stepped closer. The simple gray shoes he wore made a hollow sound that echoed before he halted just short of Tony. He probably didn’t even realize it but Captain America had this aura that made him impossible to ignore. Out of costume that held true for Steve Rogers as well.   
Tony wasn’t going to let him.   
  
“I am grateful for your concern, deeply moved. No really, see my eyes? Ready to start the waterworks. As you can see JARVIS exaggerated, I am eff-ucking fine so you can go home. Go on a date. You should," Tony said. and stuffed the dirty rag in his back pocket. Why was that in his hand again?   
  
“Since JARVIS so rudely interrupted your schedule, I’ll have him write a letter of apology. High quality stationery. You can frame it. It would be an honor. Now, if you’ll excuse me.," He continued before Steve could get another word in.   
  
  
Tony couldn’t say he was surprised when Steve was not satisfied and put his broad hand on Tony’s shoulder. His blue eyes stared at him in concern but Tony growled and slapped the hand off. Steve recoiled as if burnt. Later, Tony might feel sorry for that, he knew the instant the hurt flashed across the other man’s eyes.   
“Tony," Steve said again. This time it seemed to be frustrated, disappointed but then his eyes flickered to his own arm and back at Tony. They focused on his right hand.   
“You’re bleeding," he said. _ No shit _ , Tony’s mind helpfully intervened and he shrugged.   
  
Tony knew Captain America was just a human underneath, a rather young man at that. He still found it hard to connect the whole picture of his childhood hero in the here and now with the man he had come to know as Steve Rogers.   
Though he was every bit the righteous man Howard had made him out to be, meeting him made Tony realize that there was still a human underneath.   
  
That man saw the blood on Tony’s palm and his frown reappeared, deepened. He knew Steve was holding himself back. Was he afraid of another rebuff?   
Steve’s hand stretched out, tentatively and this time Tony let him seize his wrist. He held still, awaited the reaction, the benevolence to bleed out of this man who, just like Tony, had seen battle and death and still stood tall. 

Strong, rough fingers enclosed Tony’s own calloused hand. The cut only ran over a little portion of his palm but it had Steve grimacing anyway. Tony felt awkward, yet didn’t pull away, let the other man inspect the wound instead. Steve looked up into his eyes, sincere concern written across his features.  
  
“Is there a first aid kit somewhere?”, he asked.

It took Tony a moment to respond, distracted by the warmth Steve’s hands offered. He ran hotter than the average human, Tony remembered. He glanced toward the adjacent bathroom. The other hand found his shoulder, nudged him gently to sit down on the chair. Without another word he disappeared only to reappear with a wet towel and the first aid kit.   
  
“Hey, no really, thank you I got it from here, Steve," Tony said but Steve ignored him.   
  
Tony swore his heart fluttered when Steve knelt down in front of him. He gently took Tony’s hand and dabbed it with the towel, removed the grime and blood. It turned out the wound wasn’t that serious, it just bled like a stuck pig and Steve started to wrap the gauze around the limb.   
Tony attempted to break the heavy mood.   
  
“It’s just a flesh wound," he said.   
  
Steve chuckled, accidentally pressing down on the injury and Tony hissed as the pain sparked up. Steve immediately let go as if burned and apologized as his face turned a bright shade of red. He scrambled up on his legs and managed an unpolished smile, so unlike the ones he gave the camera.   
  
“Does pizza sound good now?”, Steve asked. Tony sighed and stretched as he got up. Steve was already heading toward the box and Tony shook his head.   
  
“You’re not going to let this go?”, he asked.   
  
“Nope," Steve popped the _ P _ and gave him a broad smile as he handed him a slice. After that he made Tony shower and cleaned up the workshop and Tony complained how terrible it was, that this was oppression and he could _ do it damn well on his own _ and to _ I hope you’re not initiating recruits at SHIELD fuck I feel sorry for them _ . In retrospect Tony appreciated the gesture.   
  
  
  
  
After that day he’d started to reply to Steve’s texts. He sent pictures of sunsets as seen from Avengers Tower and got ones from wherever SHIELD had sent Steve at that time. They didn’t give anything sensitive away, his breakfast, a cow and at one time a picture of some mush to which he had added _ ??? _ .   
Mundane conversation followed, the weather, a recent hurricane in Florida, the news about the next Miss America and _ Why don’t you apply, Cap? _ Steve never replied to that question, now that he thought about it.   
  
  
Missions with the Avengers were more of a rare occurrence. On these occasions they still snapped at each other when their views contradicted on how the mission should be run. Some of those days Tony wanted to throttle some sense into the good Captain but they left that behind once the mission was over. Usually.   
  
Slowly Tony noticed that Steve had started to look at him differently and at first he dismissed the notion as ridiculous but then the team remarked upon the moments where Steve would just _ stare _ . It was then that Tony could no longer shut his eyes to the fact that Captain America stared at him fondly.   
  
Bile rose up in his throat and he told his body to quit it. He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder resolutely and said: “We’re just good friends. Don’t tease the poor man. Isn’t that so, Cap?” He felt a jab around his heart when he saw the blow he dealt flicker across the other man’s face. The silence of the team was telling and he tapped out of the after-mission dinner.   
  
It was better that way for Steve. Safer.   
  


They never mentioned that particular incident again.A few months after, Tony was called to SHIELD’s headquarters Apparently there was some alien tech they couldn’t make sense of and Iron Man had to come in and save the day. Or something. They could have sent him the data but apparently someone insisted he saw to the matter personally. 

Feeling altruistic that day he had agreed. Today he thoroughly regretted that decision and thus he wore a stern expression that warded off most curious inquiries. His expectations of the alien tech were low, most was useless scrap, crap, blap humanity could do without.   


Upon his entry he took in the general commotion of people with a goal in mind, was it to get a coffee or lick someone’s boots? Anyhow, they appeared as busy as any day. He strode toward the reception but was intercepted by a man who appeared as if he bit on a lemon. His hair was combed and that at least distracted from the slight stubble he sported. It was obvious he had been sent to retrieve Tony and was not happy about that fact.  
  
“Tony Stark, so you’re the one they sent to pick me up? Lucky you.”   
Tony stuffed his hands in his pockets and ignored the outstretched hand of the man who just shrugged. Annoyed probably. Tony smirked.   
  
“I’m supposed to take you down, Mr. Stark. Don’t get lost.” The man turned around and made a beeline for the next elevator. They went down a few stories until the vehicle stopped with a bump. 

  
“Wow, you should improve these," Tony commented.   
  
The man didn’t answer and led him through some dull, confounding hallways until they stopped at a steel door that opened with a fingerprint scan of the man. It opened soundlessly and Tony squinted as the brightness of a white lab greeted him.   
  
There were a few scientists, three, no four, spread around and two guards at the door but he especially noted the familiar figure next to a woman in a lab coat next to a desk that held a ball shaped something in transparent casing.   
  
“Hello, Captain America," Tony greeted. He gave a sloppy salute and sauntered over to Steve whose head shot up. The man’s eyes crinkled upon recognizing the new addition to the room and was that the hint of a smile? Tony’d be damned if it wasn’t.   
The guy looked... good so to speak, all muscly with a healthy tan but there was a hidden tautness to him, his shoulders slightly tensed, a crease between his brows and a rigidity that spoke of more troubles than an alien artifact. What wasn’t he getting in this picture? 

Tony cocked his head, about to ask about Steve’s well-being when he noticed the curious glances of the people around. He decided to dig into it later when they had some privacy. He clicked his tongue. No need to give any fodder to the gossip mill.   
  
He should help Steve out with whatever’s troubling him later though. Tony made a mental note to come back to that and focused on the actual reason for his presence.

  
“Let’s see what we got here…” He passed the Captain and assessed the object. It was blackened by soot, though he could make out the smooth surface underneath, small ridges passed over it in an intricate pattern. The casing kept him from coming close but he had seen this before.   
  
“We found this after the chitauri invasion. It’s nearly indestructible but appears to carry a message. We haven’t managed to decode it but the mechanism-”   
  
“Okay okay” Tony held up his hands “You want the mechanism not what’s in it I’m sure. Since none of us speak chitauri mumbo-jumbo. You want the pot, not the pie, the cookie without the dough et cetera and you call me for _this_?”   
  
He turned an accusing glare toward one of the scientists to his right, a young, spindly man who wrinkled his nose as if Tony smelled or something. Maybe he also experimented with the effect of ammonia on the human nose. Nevertheless, he seemed peeved by Tony’s presence   
  
“Hey, you could have done some groundwork but I see nothing here. I guess nobody even tried _touching_ it. Which should do nothing by the way. And I’d have to take it to my own lab-” One of the guards grunted and stepped closer and Tony shook his head.  
“Which you can’t allow me. I know the spiel. You’re not sanctioned to make that decision. It does not warrant a removal from SHIELD premises bla, bla, bla. I am a busy man and I got no time for this bullshit. You knew this, so what is it that you _really_ want?”  
  
The other guard still in the far back coughed and someone whispered. Ammonia shrugged, hostility oozing of in a lovely, malicious fragrance. How Tony loved bureaucracy and SHIELD’s warped perception on what he had or did not have to do as its consultant.   
  
“Mr. Stark.” That was the man that had escorted him down. “Captain Rogers insisted we inform you.” He sneered and went down on Tony’s proverbial naughty list. He did throw a quizzical glance in Steve’s direction, whose complexion seemed to be a little too pale to be explained by the crappy lighting down here.   
That was off.  
  
“Excuse me, Mr. Stark. Since you had, like me, some first-hand experience with the chitauri I thought your superior mind might find something at first glance. I apologize for wasting your time," Steve said. His tone was dull, as if he just rattled his words off. There was something pressing in the way he looked at Tony, that and his play on Tony’s superior mind had him halt.   
What was Steve trying to do? He cocked an eyebrow and decided to go along with it.   
  
  
“You got my answer. Can’t help you without any cooperation on your part. If you ever get to decode it though, hit me up. Otherwise ciao and goodbye. Now Captain, if you’d escort me back up? I feel like me running around unheeded might be considered a huge security breach. Which I will make no admission to ever.”  
He grabbed Steve’s elbow and steered him away from the table. Then threw some more inane chatter over his shoulder.  
  
“Gonna borrow your icon for a moment, I’ll give him back in pristine condition, I swear! You’re okay with that, Cap, right? Right.”  
Steve followed him with a glance at the employees they passed but didn’t say anything. He seemed quite embarrassed and that delighted Tony.   
  
“Sorry Mr. Stark for the inconvenience," Steve said. He threw a telling look at the ceiling and Tony followed his eyes to make out the security cameras. Now that was interesting.  
“I felt your sense of how do I say?” Steve stopped until the steel doors behind them had closed. “Observation might come in handy.”   
  
The slowness in which Steve said those words. The uncomfortable roll of his shoulders. It all tipped Tony off that there was something wrong in this picture. Natasha had always claimed, that Steve was quite useless in covert OPs but maybe he had picked up a thing or two. _My, color me impressed, Cap._   
Steve asked him to observe. Okay he could do that.  
  
“It’s no problem at all, I’m suffering the jetlag to end all jetlags anyway.” He followed Steve around a corner, hand still glued to his elbow. _It’s only a strategy_, he told himself as he pressed in a little bit closer than necessary.  
“Hey, is this the elevator I took before? Was that ugly ass photograph always there? It’s wet stones, tell me in what way wet stones are artistic, Cap," he rambled and pressed the button for the elevator.   
  
Steve didn’t turn to look at him, focusing on said stones instead until the elevator heralded its arrival with a pitiful high-pitched whine. Before he could walk inside, Steve grabbed his shoulder while he held the door open with his right foot. He stared at Tony, pondering, inquisitive and seemed to make up his mind.   
  
“I expect you to keep this quiet," Steve said in a low voice, “If you have any _insight_-” he paused, frowned. “Any at all, contact me. Otherwise continue what you’ve been doing.” He then pulled Tony into the elevator and his reaction must have been what Steve, expected _hoped? _because his shoulders relaxed and he gave Tony a small but warm smile.   
  
On the other hand he felt blanketed, swaddled as Steve was effectively telling him not to interfere if he wasn’t in the know. In the know of what exactly? There was a tug of chagrin in his intestines, didn’t Steve trust him?   
Or was it because Tony had shut him out? Was this the consequence of his brusque words a while ago?   
  
“So what if-”, he started but Steve held up a hand. Shut him down.  
  
  
“I know you got a lot to do. Saw you in the news sometime ago. I really liked that smart suit case you designed. You should use that one more often or the black one.” Steve stared straight at the point where the arc reactor had once resided. “It was of leather right? Nowadays so much is plastic, I don’t like how easily it breaks.”   
He chuckled but there was no real mirth behind it.   
  
But then the scales fell from Tony’s eyes. Tony knew Steve knew about the portable suit. He was effectively telling Tony to have the armor with him. For assistance? For protection? Tony couldn’t parse. Not when they had so little words to give.   
  
“Yeah, Pep wanted me to make something useful for once. Never got quite the hang of when that mattered. You’re going to tell me when it matters, Steve," he said.   
“The Avengers are a team, remember?”   
Steve gave him a fond smile at that but didn’t reply as they made their way to a niche of the foyer. He turned around to face Tony then.  
  
“Tony," Steve said. There was something frangible underneath and he barely caught a glimpse. He looked at Steve, truly looked at the man in front of him and only now in the daylight noticed the slight shadows under his eyes and the nervous energy that he emanated. Tony held back the urge to lock the big guy in his arms and not let go and instead placed a hand on his shoulder.   
His brain was screaming at him to _cut it out, stop, stop making him hope_ but his action had the reverse effect. Steve practically deflated and Tony felt like he’d kicked a small animal already on the ground.   
  
Tony had to hold these walls up. Why couldn’t Steve see that? He would only harm him. There was no future in a relationship with Tony Stark no matter how much both sides tried to make it work. Pepper had paid for that experience. He wouldn’t gamble Steve as well.  
  
He had to draw a line.  
  
“Do not ask this of me. I can’t,” he said. Something clenched, the muscles in his face hardened and he balled the fist stuffed in his pocket. Surely the lost look in Steve’s eyes would haunt him in the future.  
  
“I get it. I really do,” Steve said, added, “I just… After this?” he gestured with his hands, a round motion to encompass _this_ “Maybe… just- I’ll come by. I’ll come by.” He managed a shaky smile and Tony’s gut wrenched like plastic at high temperatures.  
He couldn’t help but firm his grasp on the shoulder for a moment, let that warmth soak into his fingers and palm before he slowly removed it.  
He neither acknowledged nor disregarded the words. But he wanted to. Wanted to hold the man close and not let him go on whatever harebrained quest he set himself on.  
  
And while Tony craved the contact, the intimacy Steve would be ready to give, he destroyed. He was the missile, he brought ruin and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen to another human.   
He tried to smile reassuringly, not quite succeeding in the attempt. The execution was poor. Performance issues. it wasn’t uncommon. One out of five. He said, “Take care.”  
  
Without another word he turned around and left. All the while the eyes of Captain America seemed to bore into that place where his useless excuse for a heart lay. 

  


And then the helicarriers fell. The closeup view of blue, red, and white plummeting down into the Potomac had Tony wide-eyed and glued to his smartphone. A churning sensation paralyzed him and his mind played an endless loop of _I can’t, I can’t, I can’t._   
  
He picked up his phone and with shaking hands made a call.  
  
  
Tony did not end up visiting Steve in the hospital. Not only because his new friend, _“name’s Sam Wilson”_ asked him not to. That had led to a pang of jealousy shaking his core, he had to admit. No, it was because Tony had grown to dislike hospitals and all they entailed. As soon as he’d checked on Steve, his status no longer marked as critical, he had thrown himself into his work.   
  
  
But now they sat at his kitchen table in the tower. It was only a little while after Steve’s release but there was no sign of the multiple lacerations he had suffered in his fight with the Winter Soldier, or rather Bucky Barnes. Tony was still not up to date on who the assassin was on what time of day.   
The serum was truly remarkable in that regard, but who knew what the great reveal of HYDRA had done to Steve Rogers.  
Sometimes Tony felt sorry that the world never got to see that their Captain, their nation’s icon, was only human underneath and bled red as they did.  
  
Steve seemed anxious; his fingers drummed on the table where a barely touched coffee and two bagels waited for consumption. He was as high-strung as he had been back when he’d just thawed and the lines around his eyes spoke of grief caused by the recent events.  


Tony stirred his own coffee, the spoon clinking in contact with ceramic in the otherwise silent room. “You didn’t call,” he stated. He hoped he didn’t sound as pitiful as the words appeared.  
  
  
“I was busy,” Steve mumbled. He clutched his cup and hid his face behind it. It would have been quite endearing, really, in another situation where this behavior did not follow a dip in the E. Coli infested waters of the Potomac. Tony was irked to say the least.   
  
“Busy, as in getting shot, battered and almost drowned? Newsflash: Everyone and their grandma has a tv nowadays.” Maybe his words were slightly more acidic than necessary. It did not compare to the moment in which Tony had thought-   
He shook his head and massaged his forehead.   
  
He was irritated, no, angry at Steve for not considering Tony, but hadn’t he wanted just that? And at himself for the poison he spewed.   
While there was a relief in taking it out on Steve, it was cruel and it was shameful.   
  
  
And, unlike himself, the leader of the Avengers, Steve took it. He placed his cup down with a delicacy one wouldn’t expect from those large hands. Even smiled, added a self deprecating chuckle.   
  
“Ah, yeah... That. I heard you called when I was still asleep, so thanks.”   
  
  
“Your bodyguard, that Wilson guy, tried to kill me through willpower alone, I’m sure. He was… curt. What did you tell him? I hope you didn’t leave out my good looks and jackass personality, they’re my favorite.”   
  
Steve looked genuinely appalled at the idea and a napkin fell victim to his hand as he balled a fist. “Sam? What… No!” He frowned. “I asked him for advice but I never said that.”   
  
Tony scoffed and rolled his shoulders. “I hope he told you to put a ten foot pole between us.” He couldn’t fault Steve for that or for running to other people because he had been run out on.   
  
“Something along that line but only if…” Steve eyes fixed onto his own and once more Tony was stunned by the absolute and brutal honesty he found there. It cracked Tony and there he lay, shattered and bared in front of this sincere man.   
He couldn’t retaliate either, not when Steve left himself so exposed and vulnerable. Not when he had already been wounded so much in the past.   
  


“I don’t understand,” Steve said. His voice was calm and quiet, the words slow as if he had to squeeze them out. The tempo so unlike the Steve he knew. It sparked something within Tony. He knew, if he chose to reject this, fired the gun so to say, it would fracture them irreparably.   
  
They both know it’s not about the emotion but the push and pull between action and inaction. These fears of his he can’t shake since before Pepper, worse after.   
Steve didn’t wait for a response and continued.   
  
“I was thrown into this new age. Everyone tried their best to make me feel welcome, I think.” A small frown threw shade over his features. “They were but in a way it felt like being wrapped in cotton. They treated my like glass that would burst on impact. My mother used to have this tea set she only ever took out for special occasions. I felt a lot like that. Shelved.”   
  
Steve took a deep breath then, his eyes downcast, boring into the napkin he was tearing to shreds on the kitchen table. He was grounding himself. Tony saw it in his posture, both feet firmly on the ground and back ramrod straight. As if this was a battle, Tony thought and couldn’t help a bemused smile darting over his lips.   
Steve didn’t notice.   
  
“You were the first one here to challenge me. You weren’t… I was-” He shook his head. Then took another breath.   
“You made me want to be… more of me? Not Captain America, not the marvel out of a bottle, but Steve Rogers. See things, hear things, visit places. Talking to you, texting you felt natural and so it happened-” He stopped. His face and neck reddened, down to the collar of his gray shirt and Tony experienced that gut wrenching feeling of premonition. He knew what the next words were going to bring about.   
  
“I fancy you. It’s no secret. I know you know but…. Why? You push me away, keep me at arm’s length. Is it because I’m….” He opened his arms and gestured to himself. His shoulders slumped and he returned to staring at the hardwood of the table. He seemed impossibly small in that moment and Tony’s heart ached.   
  
  
Something evil befell him then, dread. He had thought…- What had he been thinking? Of course everything revolved around Captain America. He related everything to himself, put the blame squarely on his shoulders; carried the weight as Atlas did with the world on his shoulders.   


“The hell,” he said eloquently. He ran a hand through his hair and huffed. “Now why the heck would you assume that?” He shook his head and leaned back. He sighed then, collected his thoughts.  
  
“Steve. I killed people. No, I kill people and I don’t mean the Stark weapons still being around kind of kill, except, yeah that too. I mean the kind where people tend to die around me.” He gagged on the words, paused. “I can’t put you through that.” He was being dishonest. _ I can’t do this another time _ left unsaid.   
  
Steve squirmed, about to speak up, but Tony held up his hand.   
  
“You’re…. something else. Not in the, oh my god it’s Captain America way but you’re good at heart. You always strive to do the right thing, you get me?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and rested his forehead on his arm.   
  
“And aside from the whole bad karma thing I believe you deserve someone grand, someone who does you right. I think: What if I can’t? What if I wreck you, drag you down, waste you?”   
  
His breath hitched and his throat closed up around the lump forming there. He looked down when Steve reached over and put his hand on his own. It was slightly damp with sweat, warm and reassuring.   
  
“You could never,” Steve said. It was spoken with an absolute conviction, the kind you’d believe by the sheer force of it. Steve entwined their hands and Tony let him, he let him because how could he not? He was weak, pathetic and unable to stick to his principles as long as his hedonistic side was triggered enough.   
  
“I would not let you, Tony,” Steve continued when Tony brought nothing forward. “That’s what I talked to Sam about. He’s smart, not like you or Bruce, but people smart. I can’t force you to risk this. I have to accept a no.”   
  
Tony looked up and saw Steve’s glassy eyes. They held back emotion that would rather be poured out. It was clear that a no would hurt him, both of them, and their entire relationship. Maybe more than he is yet ready to admit to himself. Tony shook his head once more. Steve had laid the cards on the table; he owed him the same.   
  
“I do like you, Steve. More than simple affection and that is why I can’t-” he choked up and dug his nails into Steve’s flesh. The man didn’t flinch, just granted reassuring pressure instead, and that broke Tony a little more. Was he truly right? Was he just locking up, avoiding all possibilities of life whether good or bad?   
  
“I didn’t hang the moon, Tony. You know this. I feel better when I'm with you and it wasn't you who decided I had to get up on that helicarrier to get shot at. That was all me. You can’t control people or life. That's not how it works.”   
  
  
Determination crossed Steve’s face and he leaned forward. Distantly Tony heard the cup falling off the table and smashing on the floor. All he focused on was Steve, his honest gaze, the shape of his cheekbones and his lips as they moved. His words barely registered.   
  
“If I decide to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, it's not your responsibility. If a civilian shoots me, it’s not your fault. Neither was what happened to the people around you.”   
  
Steve inched even closer; a fleeting thought of the bagel squished under Captain America’s abs passed through Tony’s mind. A strangled sound fled his throat. He wanted to have faith, he truly did. His heart pumped violently in his ribcage threatening to burst.

“If you honestly don’t want this, push me, punch me.”  
  
With that the other hand appeared behind Tony’s neck and guided him closer. The kiss was short, more of a peck on his lips. Nothing like his breathless, dirty dreams at night and yet it left him breathless.   
  
Steve had conveyed his intentions with his actions, had felt it superior to more words, more discussion, and maybe that had been what was needed. It was up to Tony to respond, but he could not get his throat to work.   
  
And then he shut off the plaguing thoughts, ignored all future possibilities and acted for the present. Let his doubts simmer down below where they could do no harm.   
This time their kiss was longer, deeper. Steve hummed, pleased, and the vibration spread over to Tony’s lips.   
  
The hand on his neck loosened after and Tony tried to hide his disappointment when Steve drew back. Sheepish, he got up and stretched his stained shirt, explained: “The tomatoes are soaking my shirt.”   
  
Tony chuckled. A deep warmth and calm was settling in his core, loosening the tight knot of anxiety he had wrought. Steve’s speeches had that effect, but maybe it was part relief of having overcome himself.   
He got up as well, snaked his arm around the other man to rest his hand of the small of his back.   
  
“You’re incredible,” Tony said. He placed his other hand on Steve’s stomach and the other man flushed and frowned at the same time. Tony made a note to tell him how precious it looked. Later.   
Though he could imagine he’d rather not hear it. Tony smiled and drew the shirt up and Steve tensed, his hand grabbing Tony’s wrist. He laughed.   
  
“Don’t worry, no third base on the first date. But unless you want to smell like bacon and tomatoes-” He glanced up and raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Oh,” Steve said. He let go and together they pulled the soiled shirt over his head. Steve’s lips turned upward and something devilish played at the corners of his mouth.   
“This is a date now?”   
  
Tony refused the urge to feel the other man up, _ inappropriate _ , his brain helpfully supplied. He tried not to eat him up with his eyes but it was easier said than done. He inhaled deeply and dropped his hand off Steve’s back, then took a step backward.   
  
“If you want it to be,” he offered. His thoughts still ran seventy miles an hour but they were faded out, like a radio with bad connection on low volume. The effect these words had were priceless when Steve beamed at him like it was Christmas. He was positively glowing and the crinkles around his eyes spoke of true joy.

Was it worth it?  
  
“Thought you’d never ask,” Steve replied. Tony decided then he’d make it work, do better to avoid harm befalling his loved ones. He clasped Steve’s hand and as he led him towards the living room he told himself _ I can and I will, whatever the cost. _ _   
_This soothed his rapidly beating heart. He’d make it work. 

  



End file.
